


Marseille: December 2016

by Eliza



Series: The (15) Kisses Album [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:22:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24021268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eliza/pseuds/Eliza
Summary: The press descended like vultures to find out why Yuri was in Marseille if he wasn't skating in the final.
Relationships: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Series: The (15) Kisses Album [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1727986
Comments: 6
Kudos: 69





	Marseille: December 2016

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Disheartening
> 
> See series for notes

Yakov had told him not to come. Lilia had told him not to come. So had Victor—which had solidified his decision to come to watch the Grand Prix, just on principle. 

They might have been right. It really sucked. 

Yuri looked around the hotel room, which he was trapped in because after the Short Program the press had descended like vultures to find out why he was in Marseille if he wasn't skating in the final. And how does it feel to miss the event after breaking a world record last year? And was he disheartened by his performances in the qualifiers?

It was the last question that had ended the encounter with a number of colourful, but unpublishable comments.

Yakov was actually overjoyed with his performances in the qualifiers. Yuri had a bronze and a hard-earned fourth and skated exactly as instructed without any major mistakes. His balance was still questionable. He still had to think about things too much. He kept being told to give it time, all skaters go through this (Victor didn't, the exceptional bastard,) he'll be back on form next year. He seriously considered punching Crispino, the last person to repeat this litany at him, but Crispino’s sister had given him a long look, starting from his sneakers. When she’d finally met his eyes, Yuri wasn’t cursing his extra 10 cm quite as much.

This morning, he'd managed to avoid the reporters and made it to a seat in the skater’s section to watch the Free Skate. It was hard watching every skater he wanted to beat take the ice. Until Otabek. He could watch Otabek skate all day. He was perfect. And powerful and precise and passionate. And perfect. 

Then Victor took the ice, and Otabek met Yuri's gaze from the kiss and cry. Yuri rolled his eyes at the roar of the crowd, and Otabek gave him a hint of a smile. Otabek smiled wider at his scores—personal best—but still not enough to beat Victor. Yuri wanted to blame the judges' bias like he had with JJ's scores last year, but he didn't actually see Victor skate. His eyes were on Otabek as long as he was in sight and then Yuri left before Victor finished, to try and catch Otabek for a few moments before the press got him. That didn't work. All Yuri managed was a signal from across the room for them to meet at the hotel before the press tried to corner him again. Victor taking Katsudon in his arms as soon as he came off the ice was the only thing that prevented a repeat performance of yesterday. Good thing the skating press were fickle for a photo op. 

Still, Yuri’s abrupt departure from his seat in the middle of Victor's skate did cause some social media stir, inciting speculation about a rift in the Russian team. His phone chimed his text alert while he scrolled through Twitter, and Yuri checked immediately, hoping it was Otabek. Ugh! Victor. 

_Everything alright?_ That's not what he was asking. 

_Couldn't get to Otabek before the vultures descended. Picked his (and my) bones clean._

_You talked to the press?!_

God, did Victor still think he was…. Yeah, okay. After yesterday, the worry was justified. _Thanks to your distraction, made a clean escape._

He abandoned the conversation. He was not in the mood for any more discussions about his state of mind. He was not disheartened, he was…fucking horny is what he was. Where the fuck was Otabek?! 

Yuri lifted his phone, looking at the room through the camera, trying to see something interesting in the bland furniture and generic arrangement. The bed kept catching his attention. Housekeeping had been in while he was at the arena and it was perfectly made, not a wrinkle. Yuri kept imagining it thoroughly wrecked, cool white sheets pushed aside to expose warm skin, maybe a wet spot or two. 

He fisted the cloth in the center of the bed and pulled straight up. It came away from the pillows with ease, but the sheets were tucked at the foot. That was okay. Yuri just let go and looked at the new arrangement. There were peaks and valleys, shadows and places that caught the light, and the smooth spots were the anomalies now. It was _much_ more interesting. 

This small moment of challenge disheartening? Those reporters hadn't a fucking clue what it meant to skate. 

He had taken a couple of dozen pictures of the mussed bed before he heard the knock on the door and tossed his phone on the desk on his way to answer it. 

Otabek had showered and changed while Yuri had been slowly going crazy, so Yuri grabbed him by his fucking silver medal and dragged him into the room. It took getting a half-dozen kisses out of his system before Yuri could even bother to tease Otabek about wearing it. 

"Since you didn't stay for the ceremony, I thought you might want to see it," Otabek said. 

Oh, fuck. "I…watched it on TV when I got back…." 

"No, Yuri, that's not what I meant." Otabek took Yuri's face in his hand and kissed him softly. "I know why you had to leave. I'm just so happy you were there." 

"You were spectacular," Yuri said, leaning hard into Otabek, pushing him against the wall. "You were flawless." Yuri kissed him hard and fast. "You were fucking sexy." Yuri kissed him again, long and slow this time, and Otabek slipped one hand to the small of Yuri’s back, pulling them together tight. "You get me so hard, the only time I'll ever be able to watch you skate is when we're not competing." 

"Come to 4C then?" Otabek asked, leaning in slowly, his breath hot against Yuri’s mouth. 

"Yeah. Come to Europe?" 

Otabek nodded, their lips brushing with the motion. He was rubbing his thumb over the chain around Yuri’s neck, a present from him, and Yuri knew he loved it when he could see Yuri wearing it. If Otabek had ever made any blatant declarations, Yuri wouldn’t stand for it, but there were many times when one of Otabek’s small, subtly possessive actions would push all of the right buttons. 

"Come to bed?" Yuri asked. 

The hypnotic stroke of Otabek’s thumb stopped. They didn't do that, really. They made out on top of the covers, shirts off, although the last time their hands ended up in each other’s sweatpants, but nothing this…deliberate. 

Otabek looked over at the bed, but then paused and raised an amused eyebrow. Yuri shrugged. "I was taking pictures. It's more interesting this way." 

"I can think of ways to make it even more interesting," Otabek said, dragging his hand up Yuri's side, taking Yuri's t-shirt with it. That sounded like an enthusiastic yes, so Yuri stepped back and helped get the tee over his head. Otabek had his sweatshirt off by the time Yuri was done, and the medal in his hands. He took the few steps to hook it over the back of a desk chair before draping his shirt over it. 

"You're not going to wear it?" Yuri said. 

"No." Yuri pouted and Otabek laughed. "No," he said more firmly. "Although if that's a kink, I'm sure Chris would be happy to wear his bronze for you." 

Yuri snorted and grabbed Otabek by his waistband. "My kink is the silver medal _winner_." He slipped his fingers under the elastic, cupping Otabek’s hipbones. "Can we take them off?" 

"Naked in bed while the sun’s still up? Very decadent." Otabek ducked his head and captured Yuri’s lips in a quick, searing kiss. 

"Think of it as keeping me out of trouble," Yuri said, trying hard not to grin at Otabek’s obvious approval of the plan. 

Otabek traced the line of the chain, finger and thumb stroking Yuri’s collarbones as he covered the pendant with his palm. “I prefer happy anniversary,” he murmured and kissed Yuri again. 


End file.
